Worm Hole Theory
by EpicDaydreamer
Summary: Boredom and Desperation to escape the expectations of the wizarding world send Harry on an journey that he never expected...slash, but in later chapters.


Worm Hole Theory

EpicDaydreamer

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. If you don't, then it's mine. If you like please review.

Chapter one: Thinking

_So, when destruction lurks unseen_

_Which men, like mice, may share,_

_May some kind angel clear thy path, _

_And break the hidden snare. _

_ -The Mouse's Petition by __Anna Letitia Barbauld_

Thinking can often be a dangerous thing.

One's thoughts can lead down the road of bondage or freedom, love or hate, hurt or joy.

Harry James Potter, golden boy, hero of the magical world, the "Light's side" savior…was thinking.

The crisp golden light of the sunrise blinked across the sky, its variant hues of purple, pink, and orange seeped into the white washed hotel room and bounced off the walls in a brilliant display. The figure sitting at the edge of the uncomfortable bed, his elbows on his knees and head in his hands blinked at the realization that dawn had come.

Harry lifted his arms over his head and stretched, then let his arms fall back to his sides. His thought's wandered again.

It had been 3 years, 4 months, and 16 days since he had defeated the dark lord. He could still remember the day like it was yesterday, filled with screams and green light…and rain. There was so much rain, as if the sky itself wanted to wash away the pain and fear that had filled the magical world for so long. He remembered red eyes that were bright as to blazing coals and how they dimmed to almost black. He remembered, as those once red eyes glazed over at the sight of him, his heart clenched and he felt such sorrow. Sorrow for a fallen enemy and sorrow for someone who was more constant in his life then any other.

He didn't understand his sorrow then, but he did now.

In the past 3 years Hermione, Ron, and himself, along with the survivors of the war reshaped the magical world. Hermione was now head of the muggle relations department in the ministry, her genius ideas bringing dramatic changes such as the introduction of muggleborn society at the age of 5 years old and beginning magical elementary schools at the age of 6. Ron became a co-head auror with Harry, and lead the international war relations department, his ingenuity and strategies becoming legendary as time past. Neville, surprisingly, became the headmaster of Hogwarts and was quickly becoming known as one of the best headmaster's the school has ever had. He married Luna, owner of the Quibbler, Witch weekly, and the daily prophet, and was expecting their first daughter in June. Ron married Hermione a week after the war, and they had a son named Frederick and were expecting their daughter Gabrielle in late august.

Then there was Ginny.

He loved her, but after walking in on her having an affair with Dean, he let her go. When Ron and Hermione found out what happened, they both flipped their lid. However, once Harry explained that things weren't going the best in their relationship and that he was alright, the atmosphere settled. This didn't stop Hermione from sending a howler to Ginny though. Ginny was currently on honeymoon in Paris with Dean.

He was happy for all of them; those who had found happiness after such pain and devastation.

But Harry himself was not happy. This led to him sitting in a hotel room at the early hours of the morning and thinking.

He lifted his hands up to his face, looking at the muscular contours and calluses that can only come from constant workouts and fights. His body had become a healthy tan, reflecting his outside lifestyle and lithely toned. His hair, it's once short messy crop, had grown to the middle of his upper back. He kept it tied at his nape, which gave him an aristocratic, debonair look. Eyes, still that bright avada karada green, were piercing and he allowed them to glance at the open pages of a book lying on the mattress beside him.

_**The theory on Wormholes**_

_Nicolas Flammel, known for his genius in the creation of the sorcerer's stone and various other modern magical inventions, investigated the muggle theory of wormholes before his unfortunate demise at 393 in the year 1992. His investigations were never complete, but he surmised that wormholes are gateways to various alternate dimensions and worlds brought about the peculiar compulation of matter and dark matter. Matter is the substance holding our universe in its place, and dark matter (or anti-matter), is a substance not naturally found in our universe but, rather, is the substance that holds an alternate universe in its place. When these substances come together, usually through a focused amount of both light and dark magic, in a certain area, the corresponding energy is then released to attract the clashing substances and forms a worm hole, or a gate way between universes. _

_The worm hole will only hold for as long as the magical energy is being released. Flammel's theory on the physical reaction of an individual trying to pass through a wormhole was incomplete, but suggests that one of three things will happen: either an individual will pass through relatively unharmed, he will be torn apart due to the clashing energy, or he will pass through, but his entire makeup will be rearranged to match that of the anti-matter in the alternate universe. _

He paused, allowing a smirk to come across his full lips.

The truth was Harry Potter wasn't happy. The moment the dark lord died, and the sorrow of his death hit him, Harry realized that not only had he killed an evil plaguing his world…but he had accomplished his purpose.

_I want to start over somewhere. Somewhere where I won't be the boy who lived or the hero. I'll just be me and everything I do will be based off what I want and not the pressures of what others want from me. _The voice in his head ached with longing, the desire blooming from a seed planted from the moment he entered the magical world. As he sat there on the edge of the bed, the chill of the hotel room causing goose bumps to rise on his flesh, he thought about all the decisions he had made; the good ones and the bad ones. He thought about Sirius, Dumbledore, and Tom riddle. He thought about how a prophecy made by a quack of a seer caused his entire life to be upturned, controlled, and manipulated. Even now, when the major manipulators of his life were dead, he was still a pawn to the magical people. Their blatant insinuations and media articles pushing him to become the minister of magic had pushed him over the edge. He was tired and extremely bored. He had lived his whole life running and fighting to be recognized and seen as more than just a title, that now that he had received the recognition he was bored and tired because he only received that recognition due to his title.

What he was considering doing was extremely dangerous. It was a 50% chance he would die and 25% chance that whatever happens was probably going to be mind-blowingly painful. But he was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindor's don't back away from a challenge or an opportunity due to fear.

His smirk widened and he took a deep breath.

_I think I'm ready for the next great adventure. _

He leaped up, excitement boiling in the pit of his stomach, and laughed. A genuine laugh, one he hadn't experienced since before Sirius died. (except maybe when Ron and Hermione's first child arrived and Ron had to be carried out on a stretcher due to passing out in the delivery room). He strolled across the room, the green carpet almost silent beneath red and black dragon hide boots, and grabbed his cloak, the dark fabric rustling and then falling gently over his form.

Crack.

The sound of someone apparating resounded throughout the room, leaving no other evidence then the rumpled fabric of the bed spread at the edge of the mattress, and a opened book that now said "_**Knitting for all ages.**_"

He appeared in the open lobby of gringotts, his face glowing with excitement as he walked up to the goblin at the help desk.

"Good morning, Kakerot. I'm in need of a trolley to both my Black and Potter vaults please."

The goblin behind the both lifted his head slowly, grotesque lips pulled back over sharpened teeth in what he assumed was a smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter-Black. If you follow Golep, he'll lead you the way. "He looked down at the stately dressed goblin by him. Said goblin nodded his head and promptly turned around heading in the direction of a side corridor.

The ride to the vaults were as exhilarating as ever, which caused Harry to smile at the memory of his first time down here with Hagrid.

Getting out of the trolley he walked up to the potter vault first. Placing the golden key in the goblins hand, he pulled out a small bag at his waist. It was a magically enhanced bag that was enchanted to hold however much he wanted to put in and would never expand or get full.

"How much are you taking out Mr. Potter –Black." The goblin turned around handed Harry his key, in exchange for the small purse.

"All of it." He smirked as the goblin looked gob smacked.

"All of it, sir?"

"Yes." The Goblin nodded before turning around and using a bit of goblin magic to place all of the gold and family heirlooms into the bottomless bag.

"Are you also emptying out the Black vault as well, Mr. Potter-Black, sir?" The goblin asked while handing the slightly heavier purse to him.

"Yes."

The goblin merely nodded his head, too shocked or uncaring to do much more than that. The next hour was spent gathering all of his inheritance into the small purse and closing out his accounts. He knew the goblins were curious about his actions, but also too prideful to ask questions. He was thankful for this, he wasn't in the mood to particularly respond to anyone about his actions. Standing in front of the floo system in Gringotts, he grasped a handful of the black powder filling a golden stand and threw it into the fire place, watching as cool, green flames burst forth.

Tipping his head at his personal financial goblin, Roxfin, he called, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you Roxfin. May your wealth and gold overflow forever." With that he walked into the green flames and called out for 12 Grimmauld Place.

The day was still young as he stood in the foyer, taking in the old smell of the old, dark home. This place didn't have many pleasant memories for Sirius or for himself. But it was the first place he could call home and the home of the only man he could ever call Father. That made it special. He looked around, taking in the dank scent and pressing it firmly into his mind. The sound of Mrs. Black's screeching down the hall, the sound of Kreacher's incessant mutterings in the kitchen, and the silent noise of memories could be heard. He would remember this place.

Taking a moment, he began his walk upstairs to his room. There inside he walked to the trunk at the foot of his bed. It was a new trunk, his school one was old and he kept it in the closet for memory sake. The outside was a deep emerald green, with elegant silver embellishments. Painted serpents with Bright green and red eyes moved constantly over the outside silently. The lock itself was made up of two silver snakes battling, their shape similar to a ying yang in that you couldn't tell where one began and the other ended.

He opened the lid, using a key and whispering 'open' in parseltongue' and watched as both snakes unraveled from each other. Lifting the lid, he placed his small purse in one of the compartments. This compartment also held the three hallows: the elder wand, resurrection stone, and the invisibility cloak. The next compartment consisted of books, both light and dark from both the Potter and Black libraries. The compartment after that was filled with various potions and potions equipment as well both common and uncommon ingredients (he also kept the full roll of the Basilisk's shedded skin in there for both marketing and potion purposes.) The fourth compartment was full of various clothing. He made sure to empty his entire wardrobe into it. He didn't know what to expect if he accomplished what he was about to do. The 5th compartment was a full apartment. One bedroom, living room, office, kitchen, dining room, and bathroom all in one lovely trunk.

He smiled as he allowed the lid to close into place, before whispering 'lock' in parseltongue. Then, using a nifty parsel magic spell, he shrank the trunk to be able to fit into his pocket.

_Now what to do. _He allowed his mind to go through Nicolas Flammel's theory once more. He wasn't even sure it was going to work. Or if he was going to come out alive.

Looking over to the desk by his bed, he grabbed some parchment and began to write to his friends and his god children.

_Dear Hermione and Ron_

_ I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. The thing is, I'm not happy. Or rather, I'm not satisfied with my life. I have what every man could possibly want; health, wealth, fame, and great friends who've stuck with me through thick and thin. I know I wouldn't have been able to accomplish half of what I have without you being there. What I'm about to do, is for me. My next great adventure will be for me. I'll probably find people to share it with, just like I have with you, but I won't allow my decisions to be based off the manipulations of others. When I say that, I'm thinking about Tom, Dumbledore, and so many others, including the entire magical populace. _

_ There's something missing that I haven't found and I'm ready to make a decision in order to go find it. I know you might want to follow, but don't. Like I said, this journey is for me. Besides, you two are already on your own adventure. I'm sure we'll see each other again, if not in this life, then in the next._

_ Thank you and the other's for walking this road with me. It has been a blast. We'll always have the sweet memories that will continue to live forever. Like the time, Ron, that me and you went to rescue your sister in the chamber of secrets or that time we drove your Dad's car into the whomping willow. Or even that time we had to meet with those giant spiders in the forbidden forest. And Hermione, how you look so beautiful you nearly blew Ron's brains out at the ball we had at Hogwarts or that time you gave Malfoy that black eye. Hold onto these memories, as I will, and we will never be apart. _

_ When Frederick and Gabrielle become older, make sure you regal them with the stories of the Golden trio. Let them know that their Godfather, although held so many titles, was just a boy who had good friends and great adventures. I love you, my sister and my brother._

_Love_

_Harry James Potter_

He folded the letter and placed it within an envelope.

"Dobby!" The green, floppy eared house elf appeared suddenly. His smile as wide as his face.

"How can Dobby help Master Potter-Black, sir?"

"Hey Dobby. I'm going on a trip and need you to do something for me. I need you to deliver this to Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley Tomorrow around this time. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Master Potter sir. If Dobby may be so bold to ask, where are you going?"

Harry looked at the elf for a moment in contemplation.

"I'm not sure where I'm going just yet, Dobby." The young house elf nodded in what he could only assume as understanding.

"So it is a surprise trip, Master Potter-Black, sir?"

"Yeah. You could say that." Dobby smiled before blinking out of existence.

Standing up, he stretched again, listening to the thinly veiled pops through his cloak. Looking around once more, as if to say goodbye, he turned around and

Crack. Apparated.

The location he was now standing was a familiar one. It was an open fielded area with no human inhabitants for miles. This was where the Quidditch world cup was held in his fourth year. The smell of the forest was strong and fresh, like after a nice rain.

Pulling out his wand, he used the end to scratch his temple, thinking about how to go about bringing both light and dark spells together simultaneously, and be powerful enough to open up a portal.

The strongest light spell he could think of was a Patronus, not because it was the most powerful spell in his arsenal, but because the concept of a Patronus was built off love and joy.

The strongest dark spell was probably the avada karada, which was built off hate and the desire to kill.

The question now was, how to combine them.

How can you feel the desire to kill and the emotion of Joy at the same time?

…then again…maybe he was thinking about it wrong.

He stroked his chin and gazed up at the nearly full moon as it cast it's glow into the clearing , the warm breeze moving his locks back and forth.

Maybe the question should be how can I feel love and hate at the same time? A smile graced his lips.

A bittersweet smile, but a smile none the less, as dawning understanding that would make Hermione smirk with pride clouded his eyes.

It was quite possible to feel love and hate at the same time. He felt that for Dumbledore, the old man was the grandfather figure he never had who also manipulated his entire life like an instrument to be played. He felt that for Sirius, the man who came into his life for all of 2 years and becoming his father, only to be snatched away by a careless and recklessly Gryffindorish bout of anger that landed him through the veil. He felt it for the whole wizarding population, who found it common sense to place their hopes and future on the shoulder of an adolescent boy rather build up their own courage to fight their own battle, but at the same time, the wizarding world had become his sanctuary from the mundane and the pain of his childhood.

He felt it for Tom…or Voldermort depending on the feeling. He held such strong hate towards Voldemort that the mere thought of him in his mind caused his hands to grip his wand in a white knuckled grip and his eyes to dance around the clearing in paranoia.

Yet, he held a deep understanding for Tom, and dare he say it…affection. Because Tom was who he could have become, someone who, at times, he truly _wanted_ to become.

He grasped onto the feeling ,thinking on the conflicting personas of Voldemort and Tom, his anger for Voldemort's atrocities and his compassion for the Tom that became He Who Must Not Be Named, he latched onto the thoughts of Dumbledore, Sirius, the Wizarding World…and even the bittersweet, feelings associated with his own friends, who despite his love for them felt envy at the fact that they had found peace when he didn't.

Then he spoke the words to begin the spell,

"_Adhotantesque ego novum valebat...,"_ pure power and magic with the heavy scent of ozone, the same scent after lightening has struck, began to spread throughout the clearing. He watched, mesmerized, as his magic became a tangible glow of avada green with flashes of gold as it seeped out of him to stir in the center of the clearing. A circle was beginning to form, moving clockwise, just as a miniature circle began in the middle of the other circle moving counterclockwise. The circle itself was black, with wisps of purple and white smoke.

"…_intra novum universi!" _Just as the last syllable fell from his lips, his magic cut off and watched as the circle began to shrink as the magic that began stopped flowing. Without a second thought, he jumped in.


End file.
